


somebody's eyes are watching

by Merideath



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Banter, Because of Reasons, Bisexuality, Domestic Avengers, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Holding Hands, M/M, Romance, Voyeurism, but in a mildly fluffy way, demisexual!Darcy, everyone lives in the tower AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 17:03:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20067514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merideath/pseuds/Merideath
Summary: The show’s about to start.





	somebody's eyes are watching

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Somebody’s Eyes from Footloose. You can blame em_jay for it.
> 
> As for this ficlet you can blame my wayward muse Sybil and Aenaria. 
> 
> You know you’re in trouble when you say something like ‘I wish there was fic where....’ and end up writing 2k words in tumblr’s messages. It may not be what I wanted to write but it’s fluffy and fun and everyone lives in the tower because fudge endgame. Fudge it so hard. 
> 
> Thanks go to ibelieveinturtles for beta reading this quickly thrown together piece of tooth rotting fluff.

“Show’s about to start, Barnes,” Clint breathes out. He’s perched up high looking out over the communal living space as Steve stalks across the room with a satchel over his shoulder and two coffee cups in hand. Steve’s steps falter when Darcy looks up and he squares his shoulders and steps forward and places a cup in her hands. Her blue eyes widen comically and a pink flush blooms across her cheeks. “I could squee.”

“You’re sick, Barton,” Bucky says nudging him aside to sit down.

“Dude, shush or we’re gonna miss out on the romance of two centuries.”

“Ya mean tragedy. Lewis is too good for that mook.”

“Aw, feeling jelly are we,” Clint says. He reaches over and pats Bucky’s thigh, his very muscular thigh. Probably it’s a bad idea but Clint is bad at boundaries and even worse at self preservation. 

“Of the punk?” Bucky says leaning forward enough to see Steve dribble hot coffee down his chin and flush crimson. “Hardly.”

“Where’s Natalia? Thought she was the one with the vested interest in Steve’s lack of plush?”

“Wilson took her home to meet his mama.”

“Seriously? She tell you that?”

“Hell no, Wilson did. It’s a bird thing you wouldn’t understand,” Clint shrugs. He doesn’t move his hand though and that feels like some sort of victory. A Pyrrhic victory if he moved his hand higher. He does not. But he thinks about it for longer than he should before focusing back on Steve and Darcy and the awkward mating rituals of superheroes and interns. 

“Nat know about this?” Bucky asks jerking his chin towards the show below them. “She still trying to push that blonde in R&D at Stevie?”

“Natasha’s got a lot of skills-“

“Tell me about it,” Bucky mutters low.

“But she’s not very good at seeing from a distance. And she’s got a bit of a...blind spot when it comes to Lewis,” Clint says. 

“Huh,” Bucky says, tilting his head to the side considering. “Lewis is practically made outta one of Stevie’s wet dreams. Fuckin’ coke bottle.”

“Yeah, but the kid is awkward as hell with less of a sense of self preservation than me or yanno,” Clint says lifting his hand from Bucky’s thigh to gesture at Steve.

Clint considers dropping his hand back down on Bucky thigh but that might push things too far. Show his cards before he’s ready. But it doesn’t stop him from shifting a little so his knee bumps against Bucky’s. They fall silent for a stretch ignoring the tight pull of tension between them to focus on what is and isn’t happening below them. 

Darcy’s got her laptop out and a stack of books spread out in an arc from her corner of the couch. The kid was in grad school, studying a handful of things Clint didn’t have a clue about. She was smart though, smarter than anyone - including Doc Foster - seemed to recognise. Even Nat agreed, begrudgingly, that Darcy’s computer skills excelled her own. The girl was quiet and sarcastic and loyal to the end. But there was a fierceness to her that must’ve caught their fearless leader's eye.

He could count on one hand the number of times he’s seen the two interact before this moment. But even in those moments Clint saw some flash of interest in Cap’s eyes. This though? This little coffee break wasn’t a scenario Clint would have conjured up in a million years. Darcy was a modern kid and Clint figured if she wanted Steve she’d just ask him out. 

Every few minutes Darcy glances over at Steve on his end of the couch where he’s contorted in an uncomfortable ball sketching. It’s almost excruciating and even with all his training as a sniper sitting for long stretches doing jack all he wants to move, to shout at them to ‘just kiss already’.

“Hmmm,” Bucky murmurs knocking his shoulder into Clint.

“What? What’d I miss.”

“When was the last time Steve had his sketchbook out?”

“Dunno,” Clint says. He’s seen Steve sketching a few times on long missions, hunched over a tiny little Moleskin that looked even smaller in Cap’s grip.

“He’s drawing her,” Bucky nods. 

“How can you tell?” Clint says. He leans forward into Bucky space trying to get a better angle to see the page Steve’s working on. His hand slips and he’s a hair’s breadth away from falling off the balcony perch.

“Idiot,” Bucky hisses yanking at the back of Clint’s t-shirt. The fabric pulls a few threads tearing apart at the seams. “You’re gonna ruin things.”

Clint whines and fails to wiggle free of Bucky’s hand gripping the back of his t-shirt. He’s practically sitting in Bucky’s lap, and that’s...well, that’s no bad thing. Clint leans back, testing a theory and Bucky’s hand releases his shirt palm flattening against his back. A spike of adrenaline shoots down his spine and settles in his gut.

There’s a shift that Clint nearly misses with how focused he is that Bucky is touching him. He wonders if Coulson felt half as giddy a few years back when he shook hands with Captain America. Not that Clint had a crush on Cap. Not much of one anyway. But he may have had a bit of a thing for stories about James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes the marksman when he was young and dumb and full of... himself. The years didn’t change him much. 

Bucky’s hand runs down Clint’s back and his breath hitches like he’s the heroine in one of Nat’s bodice rippers. Shit.

“He’s got a plan,” Bucky whispers, voice dropped down in a low rumble of words. Hot. Clint wonders if he should send a fruit basket to whatever nameless Stark Industries nerd made his hearing aids so sensitive. 

“Wait what?”

“Shhh. They’ll hear you, asshole,” Bucky grumbles. Clint rolls his eyes. “Steve’s got a plan. Not sure what it is but I think he used Wilson’s ma to get Nat away from the Tower.”

“A plan to seduce Miss Lewis?” Clint whispers clutching at imaginary pearls. 

Bucky snorts out a laugh, “Something like that. Think he just wanted a chance to get Natalia out of his hair and Wilson outta mine.”

“Kinda thought you and Wilson were...yanno?”

“You saying I’ve got a thing for birds?”

“What?”

“Wilson’s hot but I ain’t gonna tell him that, ego’s big enough he already struggles to fly,” Bucky says. His focus shifts to Darcy who’s chewing her bottom lip and gripping the cord of her iPod like a rosary cross. “The girl’s kinda shy for a ball buster.” 

“Not like other girls?”

“Keep your misogyny to yourself, Hawkeye.”

“Hey! Lewis is her own version of badass. She’s just not Natasha’s type. Pity that.”

“Yeah.”

“Right?” Clint grins dragging up the image of Natasha and Darcy together. Delicious, but probably not something he should ever say to Cap down there dragging a pencil over paper with his tongue caught between his teeth. Jesus fuck the Tower felt like middle school all over again. He was already halfway to popping a boner with Bucky’s hand on his back. What next? A quiz or passing notes in class? For fucks sake he’s thirty-two not fourteen. 

A quiet laugh worms it’s way out of his throat. Clint shakes his head and leans back into Bucky’s touch just a little bit more. 

On the sofa below Darcy shifts position, unfurling her body and turning towards Steve. The space between them is suddenly less. The ghost of a smile curves the corner of Steve’s mouth. 

“Nice,” Bucky breathes out next to his ear. A shiver runs down Clint’s body and his brain goes blank. It takes a second for him to process that Bucky is talking about Steve’s Very Victorian Seduction and not, well, him. Get a grip, Barton.

“This is all very Austen like. Austinian? Is that even a word. What’s next is he gonna steal one of her gloves or write a letter telling her how ardently he admires her computer skills and invite her to hold hands and go for...uh what’s that gross shit you grandpas like?”

“Egg creams and shhh.”

“Don’t shh me. You were the asshole that said Cap was on his way back from Starbucks with Lewis’s favourite drink.”

“Would you shut up?”

“Make me,” Clint says. He regrets the words almost immediately, just not enough to take them back. He wonders if the hearing aids are strong enough to hear Bucky’s eyes roll. 

“Look,” Bucky whispers. His hand slides up the back of Clint’s neck squeezing the tiniest fraction that sends another shiver down Clint’s spine. 

Huffing out a breath Clint leans forward and eyes up the two nerds on the couch who seem to be epically failing at eye contact. 

Or not, Clint thinks, as Steve tilts his head and catches Darcy’s gaze. It’s a quiet moment, and Clint feels vaguely dirty for watching the way Steve’s face lights up when Darcy smiles at him bright a crooked with a hint of gapped teeth. He holds his breath when Steve reaches out and plucks the pencil from Darcy’s hand long fingers trailing over the back of her hand. It’s not quite illicit hand holding but almost feels as sweet. 

Obviously Clint’s been drinking from the Disney Kool-Aid. That’s the only explanation for the warm fuzzies dancing around in his chest. That and the way Barnes’ thumb is dragging over the sensitive skin behind his ear. It’s nice, too nice so Clint does what he always does. He thrusts his elbow back into Barnes’ ribs, dragging an ‘oof’ from his lungs. “Shhh, I’m watching Avengers Tower Abby.”

Bucky snorts and shakes his head and they both look over the edge of the balcony at the pair below. Clint inhales and holds his breath as his eyes take in everything he might have missed. Steve’s hand has stopped moving across the pages of his sketchbook, the near permanent worry line between his brows is gone and with it the stiff body language that seemed to be Cap’s default. 

Despite all the stories about Captain America being inexperienced and frankly useless with women the Captain was holding his own. There’s a blush warming Darcy’s cheeks and a soft smile curving her lips that widens whenever Steve smiles back at her. The pair are lost in their own little world. It’s innocent and ordinary and yet there’s a heat that sparks in Steve’s eyes when his gaze rakes over Darcy’s body.

“How long has he been interested in her? Do I need to requisition a shotgun and enact a curfew?”

“You think Captain America needs protecting?”

“Not him,” Clint says and he’s sure of it.

“You’re questioning the punk’s intentions?” Bucky chuckles low. “He wouldn’t have pulled as many strings as he has to get near her if all he wanted was a quick fuck. But you go ahead and play big brother I’m sure she’d ‘preciate that.”

“Fuck off.”

“I think Nat’s taste in women is as bad as mine...and as bad as her taste in men,” Clint says finally. It’s true even if Clint tended to think he has excellent taste in women. All his exes were fantastic women, forward, direct and fucking badasses in every way. Lewis didn’t fit that same mold of agents and spies and assassins that got his motor running. 

He gets it. Maybe. It’s not about being a badass or a hero. It’s about choice. They go and they fight and they do good again and again. They’re the good guys. The white hats. The heroes. There is no choice in that, not where Steve Rogers is concerned, and maybe not for him either, but there is choice in the way they live their private lives. 

No matter who Natasha shoved in Steve’s path they were never going to work out. Steve’s too stubborn to let anyone into his life, his heart unless he chose for it to happen. 

“Speak for yourself, Barton. I know I taste good,” Bucky grins wide and unrepentant. 

“Dick,” Clint says fighting and failing to keep his own lips from twisting up. He flicks his eyes back down to the couch where Steve’s laid his hand on the middle cushion beside Darcy’s. The sketchbook balanced on his thigh forgotten as his pinky finger brushes over hers. 

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” Clint breathes out smacking his hand against Bucky’s chest. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says, warmth wrapped around the syllables as cool metal curls around Clint’s wrist.


End file.
